Dead Things
by writergal85
Summary: About three things I was certain. First, Fred was a zombie, a walking corpse. Second, there was a part of him -- a dominant part -- that wanted to crush my head like an overripe melon and eat my brain. And third, I was unconditionally in love with him.
1. Preface

_The premise/basis for the plot belongs to Stephanie Meyer. The rest belongs to me. Rating may change later._

I'd never given much thought to how I would die – though I'd had reason enough in the last few months, dating a supernatural being with a fierce appetite for human flesh. But even if I had stopped to imagine the end, I wouldn't have pictured it like this.

I stared at the zombie at the other end of the room, stumbling slowly towards me. It could not stare back – its eyes had been eaten out by maggots, leaving only gaping holes in its skull – but it lumbered toward me, driven by its hunger for brains.

It was a noble way to die, in the place of someone I loved, or any of the thousand others the zombie might have feasted on. Allowing my skull to be cracked open like a walnut ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never come here, I would not be facing such a demise now. But even though I was terrified, I did not regret the trip. When you are offered all that you want and more in life, no questions or strings attached, you can't be sad when it ends.

The zombie twisted its face into a decaying smile and let out a keening moan as it reached for me.

**Like zombies? Check out my blog on Wordpress. Just take out the spaces in this addy: http:// twilightzombieparody. wordpress. com.**


	2. Ch 1, Part 1: My Life Sucks

_**A/N: Chapters from this fanfic will also be posted on my Wordpress blog, along with other humorous things about zombies, vampires and Twilight. To get to my blog, just take out the spaces in this addy: http:// twilightzombieparody. wordpress. com.**_

The day I left Atlanta was a typical spring day – breezy and warm, with cloudless sky. My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down and we relished the feel of the sunshine and the sounds of the city together. It would be the last time I would see the sun and the sprawl of a large city for a while.

There is small town in northwest Washington State that is famous for only two things – having lots of rain, and being home to the largest manufacturer of plastic picnic ware in the U.S. I'd lived in Sporks as a child, until my parents divorced and my mother and I moved south. Since then, I'd visited every summer to spend a month with my dad, Carl. Every trip was against my will. I hated Sporks.

But it was to Sporks that I went now – only this time it was without any coercing from my parents. And I would be staying for much longer than a month.

"I hate Sporks," I mumbled to no one in particular.

"You don't have to go, Ella," my mom said, as we approached the terminal. "I still don't even understand what prompted this."

"No, I have to go – I want to go," I added, more to convince myself than to convince her. "It's only three more years of high school, Mom. At least I'll never be without plastic utensils."  
She sighed and rolled her eyes, then hugged me tight, and I got on the plane.

I spent the four-hour trip alternating between sulking over my fate and trying to figure out what I would say to Carl when I landed. Neither of us are big talkers and our conversation about my self-imposed exile had been short.

But he seemed happy when he picked me up from the airport – as happy as you can get if when you deal with death every day. Carl works as the county coroner and also runs his own taxidermy service for hunters and fishers on the weekends, stuffing and mounting fish and game mostly. It's always creeped me out to see all those dead things –raccoons with their beady glass eyes, hawks captured forever in mid-flight, deer chopped off at the neck and mounted to the wall. We agreed that when I came to live with him, he wouldn't bring his work home. And he said he'd help me get my own car, so I wouldn't have to ride around town in a van emblazoned with the words "Sporks County Coroner."

However, a ride home from the airport in the "Morgue Mobile," – as he affectionately called it – was inevitable. I winced as he opened the back doors and braced myself for the sight of body bags. But it was empty; he threw my measly belongings into the back.

"I found you a car," he said when we were on the road. I turned my gaze away from the window – there was nothing to look at anyway except for rain, rain and more rain.

"What kind of car?" I asked warily. It better not be another death van, I thought.

"It's a van, actually," he said. "I got it from Phil Brown."

"Who?"

"You remember Phil– he used to go fishing with us during the summer," Carl said, squinting to see through the sheets of rain. "Well, he's not Phil anymore – he joined this community of environmentalists on the edge of town and changed his name to Big Blue River and Sky, so he doesn't drive anymore. Says using fossil fuels is a violent assault on the Earth Goddess." He chuckled like this was some good joke.

Great, I thought. Sure, it wasn't the "Morgue Mobile," but it was some junky old van. I wanted something new, or at least something cool and vintage.

"Carl, I don't want a junky old van that your friend Big Cloud or whatever didn't want anymore. It probably doesn't even run," I whined.

He looked sheepish, but I refused to feel guilty.

"The thing is, Ella, I already bought it for you."

"Great," I grumbled, then settled back into my seat to contemplate on my sufferings. We didn't talk the rest of the drive. When we got to the house, I ran upstairs to the room I usually stayed in and shut myself in. I curled up on the bed to cry and dwell on my fate.

Sporks County High had a whopping total of three hundred students, so I knew I would stick out. Even at my old high school in Atlanta, I never fit in. I was too pale, too thin, too clumsy and too quiet. There was no point in trying to relate to other people, because no one understood me. I favored dark colors; my mom always said they made me look washed out, but that was how I felt most of the time – like the stress of existing was slowly leeching the color out of me. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and decided that this stormy weather made me look even paler and sicklier. My dark hair was a rough and tumble mess and my black eyeliner was smudged from the rain. I considered cleaning myself up, but what did it matter? I was just going to cry myself to sleep anyway. I settled for repainting my fingernails – black, like my soul.


	3. Ch 1, Part 2: Freaks and Geeks

**Previously on Dead Things…I moved to my own personal hell, aka Sporks; my taxidermist father, Carl, tried to make it better by giving some old hippie's used van; and I cried myself to sleep at the thought of starting at a new high school. Oh, and it continued to rain.**

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I stopped crying my eyes out. The rain pounded rough and hard on the roof and even my loud sobs couldn't drown out the wind. Worse, it was still raining when I woke up. I hurried through my shower and tried to avoid looking out the windows at the dreary picture outside.

After getting dressed and putting on a raincoat heavy enough to get me through a nuclear holocaust, I went outside to get a look at my ride to school for the next three years.

The van was large and unwieldy, a Quonset hut on wheels. It might have been green at one point, but it also might have been purple. There was some message painted on the side, but with the rain obscuring my vision, it was impossible to read. The seats were covered in pumpkin-colored shag and the interior smelled faintly of patchouli, but at least it was clean. And it started no problem, the engine emitting an ear-deafening rumble.

I made it to the Sporks High without any major incident and got my class schedule from a large woman sitting at the front desk. It was a small school, much smaller than the large two-story institution I had attended back in Atlanta, and with my keen sense of direction, I was sure I would have no problem getting around.

The students didn't look very different from the kids I had left in Atlanta – same trends in clothes, hair and cars. I had no doubt if I listened to their conversations they would be the on the same banal topics – the latest reality TV shows, who was taking who to the prom, complaints about class. I sighed in disappointed boredom. I was hoping for a least a little change in scenery. It was one of the reasons I'd decided to move here.

I found my first class, English, gave my note to the teacher, and slunk to the back. As I looked over the reading list he gave me, I noted that it included lots of Bronte and other dark tales. I would do fine in this class, since I'd already read everything and English was the only subject I could ever stand for an hour. There was no need for me to listen, so I just stared out the window at the drizzle until the bell rang for the next period.

I gathered my books, glanced at my schedule and groaned. I had trigonometry next. I hated math, and considered skipping. It would be easy to leave, since I'd never been introduced to the teacher. I could just skip off to the parking lot for an hour, say I'd gotten lost if anyone asked…

"Hey, you're Eleanor, right?"

I groaned again and turned around. A gangly kid with bad skin and oily hair grinned back at me, excited for God-knows-what reasons.

"Ella," I corrected. I hated my full name.

"I'm Ethan," he said, extending his hand. I didn't take it. "I'm class president and I'll be your guide for today, to help you find your classes, you know, until you find your way around."

Even if I had wanted to get to trig class, I doubted I would need any help finding my way. And now I had Mr. "I'm the Big Man on Campus" to personally escort me to hell. Lovely.

"That's fine, Eric," I said, intentionally mangling his name. "I can find my way."

"No, it's cool," he said, scooping up my books before I could stop him. "I want to, really."

He gabbed like a giddy fangirl all the way to the math building. I gave him my best and blackest "Stay away from me" glare, but he didn't seem to notice, so I just tried to ignore him. When class was over, I practically ran to the cafeteria to avoid him and his toothy grin.

Unfortunately, he caught up with me in no time – and brought with him two other model students, Jamie Lynn and Mutt. Both chattered like chipmunks on uppers, determined to be my friend, despite my glares and monosyllabic answers.

"So what's it like in Atlanta?" Jamie Lynn asked, tossing her bleach-blond hair.

"Hot and sunny."

"Must be great!"

"It's awful."

"Oh." That shut her up, but her sidekick, Mutt stepped in.

"So, you're into the goth scene and all that, huh?" he said, gesturing to black fingernails. He chuckled nervously. "That's cool."

"Not really," I said, shrugging. "I mean, I used to have a lip ring, but my mom made me take it out before I moved here."

Jamie Lynn looked even more disgusted now, and I grinned for the first time that day. I'd have to see if I could find that lip ring again, maybe get a tattoo. I was just about to excuse myself to go to the bathroom and escape, when I saw them.

There were five of them, three boys and two girls. They weren't talking; they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of food in front of them. They also were the only students in the cafeteria not staring at me, so it was safe to look at them without being noticed.

Each was different. One of the boys was taller and wider than the rest; heavy-set, with a round face, dark, chin-length hair and a goatee. Another was impossibly thin, with a long, angular face and blond hair slicked back close to his head. The third was also lanky, but muscular, with a crooked nose and close-cropped red hair. He looked younger than the other two, more boyish.

The girls were opposites. The first was tall and curvaceous with long blond hair; the second was short, dark-haired and skeletal, almost anorexic.

But even with their differences, they all looked the same. At first glance, each looked chalky-pale – paler than me and I really work at avoiding the sun. Yet under their paleness, I could see mottled tones of purple, black, blue and even green, as if they were all suffering from full-body bruises. They had several scars on their arms, hands and faces – the red-haired boy had an impressive one running from his ear down his jaw line to his chin.

Yet all this was not what fascinated me; this was not the reason I couldn't look away.

I stared because of the expressions on their faces.

Each stared blankly across the table, their mouths slightly agape, as if they were all on the verge of a yawn. They were aloof, apart from the melee around them. They were dying of boredom. They looked how I felt.

"Who are they?"

**a/n: If you liked this, give my blog some love. And if you didn't, well...go to the blog anyways. Just take out the spaces in this addy: http:// twilightzombieparody. wordpress. com.**


	4. Ch 1, Part 3: I get ignored

**_Previously on Dead Things…I begin my first excruciating day at Sporks High School; make forced conversation with the primitive natives, Ethan, Mutt and Jamie Lynn; and come across something interesting…still raining. _**

"Who are they?" I asked, forcing myself once more into conversation with the plebs around me.

Jamie Lynn, the blond slut, giggled when she saw where I was pointing.

"Oh, those are just the Dullers. The big one's Earl Duller, then there's Jack Kale and the redhead is Fred Duller. The blond girl's name is Ruth Ann Kale and the other girl is Allyson Duller."

"They're…" I struggled for the right word. Awesome? Incredibly interesting? The first kids I'd felt kinship with since I moved here?

"Freaks! I know!" Jamie Lynn shrieked. "They're Mr. and Mrs. Duller's foster kids. He owns the plastic picnic ware factory on the edge of town, so they're all loaded. But they're all together – Earl and Ruth Ann, Jack and Allyson. And they live together." She whispered this as if this was a great scandal. I rolled my eyes at her small town sensibilities. So what? It wasn't like they were really related. I, however, was most interested in the third Duller brother, the redhead with the odd scar.

"What about the third one – Fred?"

"Oh, he's not with anyone," she said. "Not that there's anyone here who would want him. He never talks – none of the Dullers do, really. And that stare – it's just creepy."

As if on cue, the strange and wonderful red-haired boy turned his head slowly toward me and stared. I glared back into his black, blank gaze, but he didn't turn away. I had to look away first. I knew I was blushing and I was furious with myself.

"Um….are they from Sporks?" I asked, struggling to regain composure.

"God, no," Jamie Lynn snorted. "They moved here from Canada or something a couple years ago, when Mr. Duller took over the factory."

Outsiders. Just like me. I suddenly and inexplicably wanted to go up, introduce myself and sit down – something I'd never done before. But the bell rang before I could, so I trudged to my next class.

Biology was next, a class I hated with only a little less venom than Trig. And when I walked into the classroom, the only empty seat was at a lab table next to Fred Duller. I began blushing furiously again as I made my way to the table. Why? He'd only stared at me for a minute, across the cafeteria. And I was new, dressed in all black, like a freak. People always stared at me. Why should I blush now, when he looked?

But when I sat down next to him, he didn't stare. He didn't even acknowledge me. He looked out the window, seemingly fascinated with the drizzle on the pane.

"Hi," I said quietly. "I'm Ella."

He didn't turn. Instead, he scooted his chair farther away from me and turned his gaze down, as if trying to count the grains of wood in the tabletop.

I tried again.

"So, what's your name?"

He tensed up and scooted farther away. I knew he'd heard me, and yet he ignored me. More than that, he seemed angry with me, and I couldn't figure out why. Everyone else had been annoyingly welcome toward me and yet the one person whom I was most interested to get to know didn't want to have anything to do with me.

I bit back my tears, angry with myself now for crying and tried to concentrate on the biology lesson. But it was difficult, with this strange boy sitting so tense beside me. His bruise-dappled hand was clenched in a fist under the table and the scar under his jaw pulsed red and raw with the effort. And yet his eyes never turned toward me. It was maddening. I rushed out of class as soon as the bell rang.

Next was Gym, which I was determined to ditch, so I faked cramps then went to the front office to check myself out early. I'd had enough today.

But once I got to the office, I almost turned around and went back to the gym. There was Fred Duller, having some sort of argument with the receptionist. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but from her responses I gathered it had something to do with switching third-block biology for another time – any other time.

I couldn't understand how a stranger could hate me so much, especially when he's spent the entire class ignoring me. I could be quiet. I'd never talk to him again, if that was what he wanted.

The door to the office opened again and a girl came rushing through, pushing me into Fred and sending my books flying. He stumbled and fell.

"Sorry," I mumbled, bending to pick up my books and preparing for the worst wrath from the boy on the ground next to me.

But he didn't look at me. He didn't help me with my books or acknowledge that I'd just knocked him flat on his back. He just got up, groaning and walked slowly out the door. His apathy cut me to my soul and made me shiver.

"I don't feel well," I told the receptionist, no longer lying about feeling ill. "I'm going home."

"All right, dear," she said, smiling absurdly. "How was your first day?"

"It sucked. Like the rest of my life." I enjoyed the shocked look on her face for a moment, then stomped out into the ever-present rain.

**_Liked it? Go to my profile and take a look at my blog. Or just take out the spaces in this addy to visit it: http:// twilightzombieparody. wordpress. com._**


	5. Ch 2, Part 1: My Life Still Sucks

_Previously on "Dead Things": I learned about the Duller siblings and tried to make friends_, _but was ignored. The rain continues. _

My second day at Sporks High School was much like the first – only worse.

It rained all night and was still raining when I got to school the next day. I was beginning to wonder if I was stuck in Noah's flood. But that wasn't the worst.

I couldn't find my lip ring, but I'd dressed wilder wearing my favorite Marilyn Manson T-shirt and lots of black eyeliner. This seemed to scare off the bright and bubbly Jamie Lynn, but pretty-boy Ethan and dumb Mutt still stuck to me like cheap suits, popping up at lunch and class to ask how I was doing. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them, but they persisted. But that wasn't the worst.

I wasn't able to get out of Gym, despite my best efforts to fake the flu and ditch. I had to dress out and play tetherball with Mutt, who kept trying to take my head off with the ball because he thought it was hilarious. But that wasn't the worst.

The worst was that Fred Duller didn't come to school at all.

I waited with dread and anticipation for lunch, when I would see him again. This time I would make him talk to me, I decided, even if I had to sit with him the entire period just to get one word. In reality, I knew I didn't have the patience for that sort of thing; I'd just end up stomping away, frustrated. But I could imagine a kinder, gentler me – if only he would just look at me again.

But when I got to the cafeteria and turned toward his table, I saw only four bodies. His siblings were there, slouching into their cafeteria trays, but he was not with them.

Mutt tried to steer me toward his table, but I shoved him aside and walked up to the Dullers.

"Hi, I'm Ella. I'm Fred's lab partner," I said, trying not to sound too eager.

None of them looked up from their uneaten pizza slices.

Maybe they hadn't heard me, I thought. I slid awkwardly into the empty seat next to the blond boy, Jack. This seemed to get his attention; he looked slowly up from his food and turned even slower toward me. His stare was just as black and blank as Fred's, but it held none of its warmth and depth. His eyes were cold and flat, brought into sharp contrast by his pale, nearly translucent skin.

"Um, is Fred going to be here today?" I asked, my voice shaking in spite of myself.

He smiled, slowly, revealing rows of perfectly straight but yellowed teeth. The smile did not add any warmth to his gaze, but I tried to smile back anyway and asked my question again.

He still did not answer, but raised his hand and began stroking my hair and smiling even wider. I tried to move away, but he scooted closer.

"Um…is Fred here? Today?"

Suddenly I felt someone kick my chair hard – so hard that I lost my balance and fell, pulling my lunch tray down on top of me.

I looked up from the fruit cocktail in my lap to yell at my attacker and saw Jack glaring across the table at Allyson Duller. She glared back, her eyes like two onyx gems in her chalky face, but neither said a word and neither moved to help me up. They seemed absorbed in an argument which only they could hear.

Instead, the white knight to my rescue was the overly-eager Ethan.

"Here, let me help you," he said, nearly pulling my arm out the socket trying to help me up. I shrugged him off.

"I'm fine," I said. "I've got to go change."

As I walked down the hall, trying to scrub pizza sauce out of my shirt, I wondered what had caused the Dullers' odd behavior. It was obvious that most of Fred's siblings didn't want me around – Ruth Ann and Earl had ignored me and Allyson had been the one that kicked me under the table, I was sure. Jack had been _too _friendly, playing with my hair – I shivered just to remember it. I remembered that Jamie Lynn had said all of the Dullers were together – Earl and Ruth Ann, Jack and Allyson. Maybe that was why she'd pushed me. Jack had paid attention to me – though I didn't want it – and Allyson was jealous, so she'd pushed my chair and I'd ended up with my lunch in my lap.

But what hurt the most, more than Allyson's kick, more than ending up on my ass on the cafeteria floor, was walking into Biology later than afternoon and finding that Fred wasn't there, either. Our lab table was empty; I was obviously the reason. Mutt sat down next to me instead; he tried to talk to me a few times during class, but I ignored him. I spent the period scribbling in my notebook and trying to figure out what I had done to make Fred Duller hate me.

**_For more fun with the Dullers, visit my blog. Just take out the spaces in this addy: http:// twilightzombieparody. wordpress. com. _**


	6. Ch 2, Part 2: Dullers are Interesting

Chapter 2, Part 2: The Cullens can't hold a candle to the Dullers

_Previously on "Dead Things" _: _I endure Gym class with Mutt, Fred Duller doesn't show up, I try to make friends with his siblings, and end up on the cafeteria floor. Will it ever stop raining?_

At the end of gym class, I hurried out of the girls' locker room to avoid Mutt and his tetherball and ran to my van. I spent a few minutes trying to crank the old car to life, then moved into the line of traffic headed out of the lot.

While waiting in line, I watched the Dullers and the Kales leave the school building. They walked slowly to their car, a shiny black Hummer. It was obviously the newest car in the lot, and it looked like you could fit half of Sporks in the back. But I doubted they ever offered rides to the other kids at the high school and had them accepted. The Dullers were aloof, apart from the bustle surrounding them. I did not know whether it was money, looks or pride that separated them, but I had the feeling that they welcomed their isolation from the rest of the students, as I welcomed mine.

They looked at my hippy van as I past them – with its paint job, it was hard not to stare – but I did not look back. I could snub them, as they had snubbed me at lunch.

When I got home, I had six emails from my mom.

How was I? she wondered. What was the weather like? Was I getting along with Carl? Did I like school? Was I making friends? Why hadn't I called?

I'm fine, I typed back, then shut off my computer and tiptoed downstairs, hoping to find something to eat before Carl got home and peppered me with the same questions.

Unfortunately, he came in the door just as I reached the fridge. Before I could grab a container of leftovers and run back up upstairs, he cornered me with a smile and asked,

"What do you want for dinner? We'll make it together!"

"Uhhh, whatever you want is fine."

"I'll see what we have," he said, opening the fridge and blocking my path upstairs. I leaned against the counter and waited for an opportunity to leave.

"So how was school? Are you making friends?"

If I wanted to eat, it seemed I was going to have to endure some parental prying.

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Who?"

I racked my brain for a good lie. "Uh, Jack Kale and Allyson and Fred Duller." I decided not to mention that Jack creeped me out, Allyson had kicked me and Fred Duller hated me so much he hadn't come to school that day.

"Really? That's good," he said, turning from the fridge to smile at me. "Not very many people in this town seem to like them and I don't know why – the family has done so much for Sporks. When Lazarus Duller brought his plastic picnic ware factory to the town, he created more jobs than any other company that's come through here, including the loggers. From what I hear, the benefits and pay are great and job satisfaction is high; there's never any trouble from the factory workers – or the Duller kids, for that matter. They stick together and go camping every weekend. Just because they're new to town, people talk."

And probably because they're loaded, I thought, but I didn't say anything more. I didn't want to prolong this conversation; Carl's constant chatter was starting to freak me out. He hadn't been this much of a talker when I last visited, but that had been several years ago.

"How about Italian? I make really good spaghetti sauce. And you can make the salad, okay?" He smiled even wider and looked so excited I hated to disappoint him. But I did anyway.

"Um, thanks, Dad, but I have a lot of homework, so I think I'll just get something later," I said, squeezing past him and escaping up the stairs.

That night it was still raining, but I must have been getting used to the sound. I fell asleep quickly.

The rest of the week passed without incident – and without the reappearance of Fred Duller. Every day I looked for him at lunch and in Biology, only to be disappointed. I didn't try to sit with the rest of the Duller siblings again; they had made it clear before that they didn't want me either. Mutt followed me around everywhere, begging me to come along on a trip he was planning to the beach in a couple weeks. I ignored him.

By Friday, I stopped looking for Fred Duller. He wasn't coming back and it was probably my fault.

**For more, go to my blog: http:// twilightzombieparody. wordpress. com.**


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